With shirtless libidinous Hugh Jackman (insert other crush here) awesome.
We all need safe spaces. Where we can talk, and discuss and explore. And laugh. Feel better about ourselves and the world. Regroup if needed. Feel like we are connected. Feel like we are Heard. That we are cared for.
I am lucky enough and have enough privilege, to have a few of those spaces in my life.
One of them is Bookclub. Created and managed by my wonderful sister, who shall be known in this blog as DootDoot. (Strumpette christened her so.)
Bookclub is once a month. We read a book, we meet at one another's houses and we talk about said book. Very simple.
But oh the joy.
I often desire meaningful conversation in my life. Not necessarily serious, but conversation that talks about stuff that matters. Bookclub fulfills this desire so well. The books we pick aren't necessarily feminist books or books about 'big' stuff. They have generally been fiction. But the books have allowed us to discuss feminism, relationships, gender, activism, the importance of pets, writing styles, race, politics., class, education.
And laugh. At each other (gently and not-so-gently), with one another, about men, children, life, genitals, swearing and just funny stuff that happens on the night. Laughter until there are tears in our eyes, doubled over, gasping, fading off into giggles. The kind of stuff that makes you laugh out loud later in the week when you think about it. And people look at you strangely when you do so. (Maybe that last parts just me).
Each time I come home from Bookclub, I am happy. Inspired. Proud to know and be part of such a wonderful, thoughtful, intelligent caring bunch of women. Who don't take shit but like to give it.
And though some of them would reject the label, everyone of them, to me is feminism personified.
Thank-you, my Bookclub women.